Babylon Prophecy

by Sean Salazar

  There was an uncomfortable silence as the three of them stood there. He didn’t know if these guys were looking for some payback or just wanted to talk. Al glanced at both of their faces and was puzzled how the big guy was standing without a cane and even more puzzling was the fact that he wasn’t upset. On the other hand, was he? At this point, he had no idea and was just going to have to find out.

  The big man spoke up first with a low, deep voice. “We have been expecting you.”

  Al noticed that both of the men were wearing small white waist aprons, and large ornaments around their necks, which meant they were Masons. He took a brief moment to look around, concluding that the entire scene was different from where the other two encounters had taken place. He could hear the rain picking up outside the barn and could see a light fog through a crack in the barn door.

  He brushed the dirt and grass out of his hair and asked, “Who the hell are you guys?” What he really wanted to know was how they knew he would come through that hole.

  Koenig spoke up, “Let’s just say, if you really want to help solve mankind’s little crisis, then you’re going to have to be more punctual.”

  Al was feeling about as vulnerable as he had ever felt. “Who are you guys, really?” he asked again, wiping chunks of dirt off his face.

  “We go by many names,” the big guy answered.

  Al was quiet for a moment. “Let me guess, you men are Masons?”

  “Yes, we are,” Koenig answered and then said, “Apologies for the secrecy and our deceptive nature.”

  Al shrugged, “I’m getting used to it.” He then gave Koenig a stare, “And why aren’t you dead?”

  Koenig smiled. “As you know, timing your initiations is not an easy task.”

  “Well, let me see,” Al said, “the first initiation you boys captured and then drugged me. The second time you drugged me, and then drugged me again; and this time?”

  “Keep in mind,” Koenig said, “that if we were able to track you then the others can, and they are.”

  That statement concerned Al. He immediately thought about Vance, alone standing guard at the entrance. He was about to ask a question but Koenig continued.

  “Nevertheless, we began initiating you for a divine reason involving your past; a past that is on the square with Alexander the Great.”

  What the hell is he talking about, Al thought. He stood there for a moment wracking his brain for why every time they captured him they kept comparing him to Alexander the Great, but gave up. One thing he did know, he had in fact been brought in, but how? How did they know he would climb through this very spot? He decided to ask, “I need to know how you guys knew what I was going to do?”

  Koenig straightened up. “Before you become overly concerned with our deceptiveness, you must understand that every day we are being eliminated one by one.”

  “I know,” Al answered, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “For starters,” Koenig asked, keeping his expression warm and inviting, “have you determined where the bombs that detonated in Lebanon and Washington D.C. originated?

  “The Brotherhood-terrorists, perhaps.”

  “Yes,” Koenig said, “and how long have the bombs been there?”

  “We are working on it,” Al replied, and then asked, “and what do you know about the bombs?”

  “Ah,” Koenig said as he retrieved and unrolled a short white scroll. He held it up as if he was reading it and said, “Let’s say hypothetically that an outside force was aware of a pre-ordained, End of Days, or an impending doom for mankind.”

  Al waited for him to continue his statement about the bombs but he did not. Koenig stood there silently looking at the scroll. Al turned to the big guy who was standing there at attention and also silent. He turned back to Koenig and asked, “I don’t follow you, and what do you mean by an outside force?”

  “Allow me to re-phrase that,” Koenig said. “If an ancient order of people wanted to warn mankind of an End-of-Days date, what would they use, and how would they do it?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Armageddon,” the big man added.

  “You guys are losing me.”

  “When will they return?” Koenig asked, his eyes still fixed on the scroll.

  Al stood there, unsure if he was to take part in the act, or ask questions, or what. Normally the Masons just lectured him, but this time it seemed they were expecting him to respond so he asked, “When will who return?”

  “The Prophet Amos,” Koenig said, “spoke of the coming Day of the Lord.”

  “The Lord is who?” Al stupidly asked.

  Koenig glanced at the big guy, who then took two large steps in front of Al, facing him. He stood there for a moment, and then motioned with his oversized hand to the acacia plant. “This spot,” he said, “resembles an area outside of King Solomon’s temple and, as we have explained to you earlier, the great-grandfather of Noah was Enoch, who is our teacher,” he paused, tilted his head, “now your teacher.”

  “Enoch who?” Al asked again.

  The big man lowered his hand and continued, ignoring Al’s question. “Long ago, the angels of the Lord parted ways.”

  “Let me guess,” Al jumped in, remembering what he was saying as a repeat from before, “the good guys and the bad guys.”

  Koenig held up his hand drawing Al’s attention to him. He spoke up with increased sternness in his voice said, “Long ago, one side of the Lord, the Sons of Light, wished to save mankind. The other side, the Sons of Darkness did not. Following the flood...”

  Suddenly the barn door burst opened and another man stepped in halfway, giving Koenig a serious look. He was also wearing a waist apron, an ornament around his neck, and holding a large gun that Al did not recognize, although he did recognize the large 50-caliber cartridge. A cartridge of that size could only mean they were hunting something large and heavy, like dinosaurs.

  Koenig nodded and the man stepped back out. He then turned to Al and continued, “Following the flood... devastating wars of gods and men endured for many centuries until the day of the Lord arrived as prophesied by Amos and Hosea.”

  The big guy picked up from there with his deep voice, “The day of the Lord arrived and the gods departed, whereas the sons of Light and Darkness went into hiding.”

  Al sighed, weary of the ritual jargon. “You guys lost me big time.”

  Koenig spoke up, “We have been battling the Sons of Darkness ever since.”

  “You mean the Brotherhood?” Al asked.

  Neither of them responded and Koenig refocused on the open scroll. He began yelling out names. After each name, the big man enthusiastically yelled out, “Here,” as if it was a roll call.

  Al stood there in disbelief. These Masons were putting on yet another show for him.

  Then something different happened. Koenig yelled out, “Rosh,” and the big guy did not answer “here.” Koenig looked right and left as if he was looking for the missing Rosh, and then yelled out, “Masech,” and again the big guy did not answer. Koenig again looked right and left, and finally he yelled out, “Tubal.” The big guy just stood there, not answering.

  When Koenig finished yelling out names, he rolled up the scroll, looked directly at Al, and said, “It is high noon, Hiram Abiff; we welcome you, my brother.”

  Al shrugged, wondering about the significance of the three names. The big guy did not answer “here” for a reason, but what? Also, why did Koenig just call him Hiram Abiff? Ed and Alex told him specifically to pay close attention to what the Masons did and said because they always operated and functioned with clues and symbols. Al suddenly had the urge to write the names down before he forgot them but, of course, he didn’t have anything to write with and simply said, “If you say so.”

  After a prolonged pause, Koenig raised the scroll and continued reading, “Let’s assume...that the true history of humanity’s past is neither understood nor taught today. Let us also assume...that humanity’s past was alt
ered, and hidden deliberately.”

  The big guy spoke up responding to Koenig in a calm manner, “Why? Why would our history have to be hidden from us?”

  Al was tempted to interrupt with a sarcastic response, but continued to watch and listen.

  Koenig lowered the scroll again, looked directly at Al and said, “Both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament avow that the secrets of the Future are imbedded in the past. The secret of the End of Days is encoded within the ancient writings and books that were used to create the Bible.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles,” Al answered.

  “Look there to begin your journey,” the big guy added.

  “Now you’re really speaking in riddles.”

  Koenig gently rolled up the scroll and handed it to Al. He reached up to grab it but hesitated, remembering what happened the last time he touched something of theirs. Koenig continued speaking as he held it, “Your journey will include the men who financed the discovery of America and the hidden shibboleth.”

  “What, why?” Al said, slightly stunned by the statement. He cautiously eyed the scroll. If he touched it, would he be drugged again as they did to him in the past? Simply touching the paper could introduce another date rape drug into his system and out he goes. He hesitated again but decided that the entire scene was different and knocking him out wouldn’t make sense. Or would it? He stretched out his hand and gently grabbed the scroll.

  “Because I was there,” Koenig answered.

  “What the hell,” Al shot back, focusing on his mental state. So far, so good, the distinctive feel of blood draining out of his head didn’t happen this time so he wasn’t blacking out...Yet.

  Koenig laughed again, “In a way you have been on a race to find mankind’s history before the Ordo Praedicatorum, but the difference is that you possess the ability to translate the writings from before the flood; the writings of the gods.”

  “Yeah, you guys said that before, but hold on a minute,” Al said forcefully. “You’re now referring to the Brotherhood as the Sons of Darkness and Ordo Praedicatorum. Which is it?” Al paused and continued, “And what do you mean you were there at the founding of America, and what the hell is shibboleth?”

  At that moment, the guy with the big gun entered the barn again. This time he motioned with his head, indicating something was up outside.

  Koenig reached out his hand and the big guy handed a different gun to him. He then handed it to Al. It was completely silver except for the hand grip, heavy, and he was surprised to see a rotating cylinder within the barrel. He angled it down and eyed the chambers. He realized that Koenig just handed him a loaded 50-caliber handgun with three very large bullets in the cylinder! Al held back his excitement considering he had never actually seen one and simply looked back to Koenig.

  Koenig had a sense of urgency in his eyes and said, “The Tyler has indicated that darkness is near, you must return from whence you came.”

  “That’s it?” Al asked. “At least buy me a drink or something.”

  “For now,” Koenig answered hurriedly, “from this point on, you are now a third-degree brother Mason and all of us with the 19th degree that have survived will help when we can.”

  “In other words I am on my own,” Al said, then asked, “what about that map table down there?”

  “Use the ancient writings,” Koenig continued, “to piece together the clues that may lead you around this world, but you must stop them.”

  That statement caught Al off-guard. Suddenly something solid collided with Al’s temple and out he went.

  Al opened his eyes in the dark. It took him a second to figure out what had happened. His head felt like it was split open, indicating that the big guy must have knocked him out by punching him with his club-like fists.

  “They have got to stop this knocking me out cold bit,” Al said as the pain deepened within his head. Eventually he was going to have to accept that this was just the way the Masons did things. He felt around near him, found his light and clicked it on. He realized he was back inside the hole, which meant they had stuffed him back inside and covered it up, but of course the scroll was gone. But the amazing high- powered handgun was lying right next to him. He stuffed it in his belt and pushed his way back down.

  Al climbed out of the shaft and noticed Vance leaning against the side of the grave, smoking a cigarette. He was just as he had left him except this time he was soaking wet from the rain that had now subsided.

  Vance looked him up and down and asked, “What the hell did you get into?”

  Al looked down at his clothes and the mud, grass, and maybe a little cow poop. “Don’t ask.”

  Vance laughed, looking him over again, “No really, tell me. Did you meet a hot little Amish girl and go rolling around in the mud or something”

  “Remember Rome,” Al said.

  Vance glanced down at the shaft and then up at him. “What are you saying, the Masons are zombies waiting around under graveyards?”

  “No... When they captured me...”

  Vance instinctively dropped his cigarette and ducked, “No shit!

  The Masons with the horse tranquilizers nabbed you again? What, were they just waiting for you down there?”

  “I guess they were tracking me, and it’s not funny,” Al said, closing the metal coffin.

  Vance laughed again, “Oh yes it is.”

  “Did you see anything suspicious while I was down there?”

  “Nothing really, just something big marched through the woods over there.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I thought that was enough.”

  Al pulled out his new gun, stood up and glanced over the edge of the hole into the darkness. “There is another entrance under an old barn about sixty yards that way.”

  Vance glanced in the same direction, “That’s where whatever it is was heading.” He then noticed the gun. “And what the hell is that?”

  Al handed it to him, “You’re gonna love this.”

  Vance immediately figured out what it was. “Who in the world made this?”

  “The Masons traded guns with me before they knocked me out.”

  Vance looked over the gun. The polished silver brightly glistened in the cloudy moonlight. “No shit,” he said slowly. “I bet they gave this to you to use as an armored-knight killer.”

  “Probably, but I bet it has a killer kickback too.”

  “Yeah, knock your skinny ass over. Maybe I should keep it.”

  Al snatched it from him, “Get your own.” He then pulled out his PDA, typed in a message that they had found something important, and that the Masons captured him again.

  “I am not even sure how to explain what I found,” Al said. “They did the usual dog-and-pony show, but said something about investigating the people who financed the discovery of America, me and Alexander again, and some strange word, shibboleth.”

  Vance shrugged, “Let Ed figure it out.”

  Al then hit the Send button, forwarding his pictures of the table along with his message.

  A few seconds later, he received a return message. It was from Captain McCoumb and Al read it aloud, “Stay put. Relief is on the way.”

  A short time later, four heavily armed Marines dressed in black camouflaged uniforms and painted black faces approached through the bushes and stopped near the edge of the hole.

  “About time you ladies got here,” Vance whispered.

  “Captain McCoumb is waiting for you, sir,” one of the men said.

  “Good,” Vance replied, “I really am not in the mood to cover this grave.”

  “What’s the situation out there?” Al asked.

  “Whatever you do,” the lead man said, “we are under communication blackout; do not use radios.”

  “What happened?” Vance asked.

  “I don’t know, sir, I’m just the messenger. You two are to return back to the choppers immediately and await further orders.”

  Al and Vance were escorted off th
e hill and to a black SUV. Several more soldiers were waiting for them and Al could tell that the military was quietly securing the area while the neighborhood slept.

  During the hour’s drive back, Al fell fast asleep. Fortunately, Vance let him drift off and he did not wake up until the SUV came to a stop.

  He sat up and saw Vance outside the car talking to McCoumb. He rubbed his eyes and saw in the background, instead of the one helicopter they arrived in, there were now two, and both ready to take off. The engines and lights were on, meaning he had to rally his ass up, which his body absolutely did not want to do. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually slept. He was so amped up on adrenaline that his mind would simply not shut down long enough, and if he didn’t sleep soon he was going to have a mental breakdown. He opened the door and forced his legs out.

  As Vance noticed Al climbing out of the car, he walked over to him. “You’re going to love this. They found the beautiful Dr. Zohar, and they’re shipping me out to interrogate her. You, my sleepy friend, are going to have a chat with the Brotherhood knights who just had a shootout with some hunters.”

  “Oh great!” Al said grabbing the black book and key. “Why do you get all the fun jobs?’

  “I’m expected to use my good looks to charm her into a full confession.”

  “Where was this shootout?”

  Vance shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  Captain McCoumb then waved Al over to a chopper. Vance patted Al’s shoulder, “Have fun,” and he jogged to the other waiting chopper.

  Captain McCoumb opened the side door and yelled out over the engine noise, “You’re going hunting.”

  Al eyed the inside of the aircraft and his mission became crystal clear; two black bags of gear which most likely contained various weapons were on the floor. “Hunting what?” he yelled back.

  McCoumb shook his head, “You’re going to be on standby, until Ed Collins’ team examines what you discovered here.”